


From Yesterday

by lilmissmaya



Series: Fuss and Bother [3]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Gen, Mild Angst, Sickfic, deaf!Snufkin, ish, more of a joxter and snufkin fic than anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 01:43:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18863194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilmissmaya/pseuds/lilmissmaya
Summary: there's a new face in the valley, and he says he is The Joxter.he also says he's snufkin's father-sequel to basic access and rootlessness!





	1. in which we meet the cast and catch up on things

It was a few days before midsummer, and our boys had moved into their little cottage. Not that it was finished, there was still a lot of work to be done. They slept in their sleeping bags on the floor of what would be their bedroom. They cooked outside over a fire (too hot to light the fireplace yet). There was no stove yet, papa was in the process of trading for one by some mysterious means. But when you are young and first on your own, it’s incredibly romantic to be bathing outside in a washtub and to cook over a fire. 

But a house still needs thing, no matter how romantic it is to be living together with nothing at all, and Snufkin was insistent on pitching in. he had no money, and had as little to do with it as possible. But he was good at finding things in the forest, and most of the residents in moominvalley were perfectly happy with trade. Today he needed to find some herbs, for which the hemulen at the store said she would give him a shabby but perfectly serviceable hat, and if he found any early apples she’d throw in a pair of boots too. Which, he was a little ashamed to say, needed having lost them to a flash flood earlier in the summer. Moomin got that wide eyes, worried look when he said he was going out. Which was perfectly reasonable, considering snufkin had nearly drowned not that long ago, and before that nearly died of pneumonia and hypothermia really, settling down in one place might be the safest thing for him if the world was insisting on trying to kill him at every turn. 

But both of them understood that he needed time by himself, so he let him go into the woods alone. (but not for too long. Who knows what was out there that might decide it had a taste for snufkins?)

So Snufkin picked his way down a path, humming to himself. The branches moving in the wind made patterns in the shadows, which made a good rhythm for a song. His hearing came and went, some days he could distantly hear moomin, some days not. He found ways around it, and very few people realized he couldn’t hear. Not out of pride. (well, maybe a little) but it was no one else’s business to know. He could not do anything about it, so why worry? It was a good way to avoid social interaction, so there was that. 

So that was the story up to now, and where this story began. 

On his way to find some pineapple weed and early apples, he passed by a stranger in a red hat. The stranger was stretched out on a branch, asleep, so snufkin paid him no mind. People came and went, and he was busy thinking about music and the upcoming midsummer’s night. (moomin had strictly forbidden the use of the park keeper's signs for the bonfire.)

The stranger was still there went he came back, new-ish hat on and boots in hand. The strangers eyes were an incredible shade of blue, watching him carefully.

“Well.” said the stranger. “Look at you.”

“Pardon?”

“We've never met, but Joxter is the name.” he hopped down from the branch, graceful as a cat. (now, some may argue that at the end of the novel, Moominpappa’s memoirs, they met, but the writer has ignored that part as being too set up. The narrator disagrees with this, but as the writer has made a good argument that she can write what she wants, including writing out the narrator, we will go with her.)

“Moomin said, well, I guess he goes by moominpappa now, said you’d be up here.”

It was like falling into the river again, a rush of cold that took away his breath.

“I heard… you died?”

“Oh, I got better. Ended up somewhere terrible, the food was awful. Took me forever to get back here.” he spoke too fast for snufkin to catch it all. “Heard my son settled down here, thought I’d come visit for the holiday.”

 

It wasn’t that snufkin didn’t want to meet his father, it’s just he’d’ve liked some warning it was one thing to hear stories about him, another to meet him out of the blue. Moomin helped him pull a log to their cooking fire for extra seating (as they still had none.) and the Joxter settled in, accepting coffee. It was impossible to tell how old he was, fuzzy and dark where snufkin was ginger and pale. His clothes were frayed, patched and quite filthy. But he was cheerful and pleasant, trying to keep a conversation going. 

It felt like an invasion in their quiet little place.


	2. Father and Son

Thankfully, the Joxter excused himself after the coffee, saying he had some catching up to do with pappa. He promised to stop by again later, that day or the next. 

 

“Fine boy you have there.” pappa said, sanding the top of edge of a headboard for a bed.

“He looks like he’s been sick.” the joxter settled nearby. “You didn’t say he’d been sick in your letters.”

“Last winter was hard on him.” he ran his thumb along the carving, then took away a bit more to smooth it out. “Would you have come sooner if I had said so?”

“Maybe.” he grunted, sounding much like snufkin in that moment. “He hates me. I can tell.”

“He doesn’t hate you. He just doesn’t know you.”

“Your boy did all the talking, he didn’t say a word.” he frowned again. “They aren't married, are they?”

Pappa rolled his eyes, putting down the sandpaper and stretching his back. “I don’t know what’s going on between them. I don’t think they know.”

“I’d be pissed if they got married and you didn’t tell me.” he flopped onto his back and pulled his hat over his face for a nap.

“Would you have come?”

“Maybe.”

\----

They didn’t need to sleep close anymore, with being on the floor and not the same narrow bed. But they always ended up wrapped around each other. Habit, snufkin supposed. He couldn’t sleep tonight, even with moomin’s soft bulk against his back. (He’d gotten quite used to sleeping with him in a short time. It made being in a house easier to handle.) yes, it was one thing to know that someone was your father, to have a name, a few stories about him. Another to have him randomly appear on your doorstep. 

Maybe he was just wary. Why try to get to know him when he was just going to disa[[ear once again from your life? Then again, why should he care whether the Joxter came or went? He’d gotten along this far without him, and what would change when he was gone?

The sun was already peering over the horizon. He crawled out from under moomin, (who at some point had rolled over and pinned him to the floor,) and headed to the stream to wash up. The joxter was in the shade tree, opening one eye as his son stepped out.

“You’re up early, boy-o.” Snufkin, who was not looking at him, didn’t hear him.

“Hey.” he tried again as snufkin finished washing up. It wasn’t until he waved furiously that he got his attention.

“Oh, hello joxter.” he said distantly. Maybe he was a little angry about all this. 

“Moominmamma sent up sweet rolls. I put them in your kitchen.”

“Thank you.” he said, without grumbling too much. He’d not slept well, his reserves for polite social interaction were low.

“I’d thought I’d spent a bit of time with you today.”

“Hrm.” well, there was one upside of being an inch away from being stone deaf. It was a great way to avoid social interaction. He’d let the Joxter come along, didn’t mean he had to talk to him. 

\---

The joxter followed him all day. Quietly sitting with him at times, or walking a few steps behind. Wordlessly smoking his pipe. Sort of just getting used to each other, slowly getting comfortable. 

“How long are you going to stay?” snufkin finally asked.

“Few days. Until midsummer at least.” he climbed into the shade tree, settling on the same branch as before. “Too hot today.”

Snufkin quietly agreed, flopping down underneath the same tree. He felt the heat too much this summer… never bothered him before…

The Joxter felt something akin to worry, something he’d long given up doing. Worries were for people with things and people to worry for. Of which the Joxter had none.

And yet here it was, laying in his lap like a dead bird; a worry. He did not like it. But he supposed it happened as it does-

Eventually you have someone and a worry comes along. 

He was worried for his son. 

It was bad enough he was living in a house of all things, and doing things like work- they’d spend all morning gathering firewood for the cooking fire. The son of the Joxter? Working? (a thought came into his head. While rare, it occasionally happened. Maybe if he had stayed around for him, he would have taught him better on how to avoid things like that. But that would have been a sort of work-)

Oh, his head hurt. He didn’t like that either. No, this all annoyed him, and he hated being annoyed as much as he hated worry. It would make his whiskers droop and his hair fall out and then where would he be?

But his son looked small and tired, dozing under the shade tree in a way that did not speak of a pleasurable nap for napping’s sake, but pure exhaustion.  
And with this worry came helplessness, which was new. Helplessness came with responsibility, another thing to be avoided. But if he wanted to call himself a father, there came responsibility right along. What to do? What to do.

(he could not pin down the moment, or even the reason he wanted to take up the title of father. Something he saw, a dream about snufkin? A letter moominpappa had sent him? Maybe he needed something to do besides just aimlessly exist.)

He liked none of it and he should be on the road to somewhere else. Forget all about it and do what he pleased. 

But perhaps there was more to life than naps and rule-breaking and pranking park-keepers. What would moominpappa do? That seemed like a good place to start, to do what he, an experienced father would do. 

He slipped off his branch, settling by his son. Hesitantly he put an arm around him. But snufkin stiffened and pushed him away.

“Come back, let’s sit in the shade!” he called to snufkin’s retreating back. “Or into the river? It looks nice and cool-” he hopped to his feet to follow. “Lunch, moominmamma has lemonade-” but his son didn’t stop, not acknowledge he heard. “Snufkin?”

He grabbed for the younger’s wrist, ducking just in time for the punch to only hit his hat.

“Why are you here?!” snufkin looked at the edge of tears, the heat and tiredness making his control thin.

“Moomin said you were settling here, that I should meet you.” he stepped back, just in care snufkin decided to swing again.

“And what, you had nothing better to do?” the Joxter winced. That was too close to the truth. Snufkin scowled and turned to leave, but he moved too quickly. He felt light-headed from the heat-

Joxter caught him before he could fall.


	3. Midsummer storms

The water of the stream was shockingly cold, but it felt amazing after the exhausting heat. The joxter even dumped a bucket of water over his head for good measure. 

He avoided looking at his father, splashing water onto his face. The older man watched him for a moment before tossing his coat on the bank and settling into the water with him. 

“What’s going on?” his son didn’t respond, he reached over and tapped his knee. “What’s going on?”

He just shook his head.

“moomin said the winter was hard on you.” delicately, he tipped his son’s face up with his fingertips. “I think he was putting it lightly.” 

He pulled away from his father, to the bank to dry off. Joxter followed, stretching his long legs out. There was a long while of silence between them, before made a decision.

“Then I guess I should stay around for a while to help out.”

“What?” he missed half of that. 

“I said, I’m going to stay for a while. Help you and moomin-son out till you’re back on your feet.”

“Why?” it was the only thing he could think to say.

“Because I’m your papa, and I’m pretty sure that’s what moominpappa would say I should do.”

“Fine. do what you like.”snufkin stood up, combing back his wet hair with a hand. “But wash up first. I’m not having you in my house stinking like the groke.”

“You sound like your mother.” but the joxter grinned in victory. 

 

Moomin fussed over him when he returned with his father. 

“I told you to take it easy during the day.” he said softly, just so snufkin could see, and their fathers couldn’t hear.

“He pissed me off and I forgot.” he was still flushed, eyes much too bright like he was running a fever again. He smiled as moomin patted his face. 

“You didn't want to look bad in front of him, that’s why. Go drink some juice and lay down. Papa’s finished the bed frame, we’ll put it together.”

“I can help.”

“Nope, nope.” he tugged snufkin’s hat down over his eyes. “Go lay down.”

 

“That is too stinkin cute.” the Joxter mentioned to moominpappa. He was in the midst of attempting to wash his clothes, or at least to get the worst of the filth off of them. 

“That works better if you use soap.”

“Hup, I knew I was forgetting something!” he sighed, squeezing the water out of the shirt. “This is too much work.”

“Why are you doing that?”

“Snufkin told me to wash up.” he shrugged, dunking the shirt back into the water. At least the shirt was recognizable as having been blue at some point in it’s life. 

“And when was the last time you did that?”

“Hm.. what year was little my born?”

“Groke help us.” papa mumbled to himself, going back to the cottage.

 

The joxter didn’t look bad when he was cleaned up. Moominmamma had declared his clothes a lost cause and fit only to be burned, (but in a polite way.) and found him something newer to wear. He even let her trim up his hair after a through scrub-down.

So he arrived the morning of the house warming slash midsummer night party (that none of them knew snorkmaiden was going to throw for them,) looking almost like a person. Even snufkin had to admit it. 

“So,” he started, spooning out the breakfast casserole moominmamma had sent up with him to the boys. “What are we doing today?”

“Not pranking any park keepers.” moomin said.

“Staying away from park-keepers.” snufkin said at the same time, because today was one of those days he couldn’t hear a blasted thing, and therefore didn’t hear moomin say it. “Maybe paint the house?”

That sounded dangerously like work, and boring to boot. It made his whiskers twitch. What was wrong with pranking the park-keeper? 

Moomin tapped snufkin’s knee to get him to look at him. “We could go to my parent’s house and make marshmallow sandwiches over a bonfire?”

“We need wood for it”

“Pappa has a pretty good pile already. Flowers for garlands?”

An acceptably lazy activity. The joxter approved. “Sounds good to me.” 

Snufkin blinked, looking at him then moomin. “He said it sounded good.”

That was… odd. Well at least snufkin wasn’t glaring at him. It was a start. 

 

They went out a ways into the valley to find a good supply of wild flowers. It was another hot, bright day and they ended spreading out. Joxter settled down to start braiding the flowers into garlands, his fingers neat and quick. 

Snufkin ended up off by himself, out of sight of the others. It was easy to lose himself in thought, this and that, music, how he could pattern seashells around the front door. Being in a house and out of the woods, his hearing nearly gone, it was harder to keep the constant awareness of the surroundings he’d needed in the past. The hot weather brewed storms up quickly, and the sudden wind was his first warning of the storm. 

He couldn’t see the joxter or moomin, his throat tightened up in sudden panic.

 

-water filling his lungs-

 

He dropped the flowers he was holding, covering his mouth as nausea welled up. He wanted to yell for moomin, but his throat wouldn’t let any air out. 

 

-the bank collapsing under his feet, weightless for a moment-

 

The rain hit, sharp as needles against his face and all rational thought left.

 

He ran. 

The joxter and moomin ran under a tree as the rain came down.

“I already had one bath today.” he grumbled, shaking water off his hat.

“Joxter-” moomin grabbed his arm. “Where’s snufkin?!”

“Oh, the boy was-” he turned around, looking around the meadow. “He was just here.”

“We need to find him!” moomin yelled over the rain and thunder.

“He can take care of himself, it’s just some rain!”

“Joxter, he’s not-” he frowned, then let it out. “He’s not well, and he’s losing his hearing!”

He stared at moomin for a long moment, things clicking together. “You should have told me sooner!”

“He doesn’t like other people knowing about it!” he made a helpless gesture.

The rain was still pouring down, with the occasional crack of thunder. He peered out from under the branches, sighed and pulled his hat down. He hated getting wet. 

“Stay here! I’ll go find him!”

He was soaked to the skin in a blink, the force and chill of it made him gasp. But he pulled his hat down over his eyes to keep the water out and made his way into the meadow. Where could the boy be? They were far up enough from the river at least. Hrm. 

He searched at the edges, finally following a path of flattened grass. Hopefully it wasn’t just a deer trail-

It was getting muddy. Things were still soggy from earlier storms, and now his new pants were getting caked. 

By the time he spotted his son’s green hat the rain was starting to let up. He was shivering, tucked up under a ledge in as small of a ball as possible. He wasn’t sure what happened, but he dropped to his knees (getting even muddier,) and crawled in with him, before pulling him close.

Snufkin yelped in surprise and struggled for a minute against the embrace… then gave up and slumped into into it. He was trembling, his breath coming in quick gasps.

“Shhh, now. Shh….” He hummed tunelessly, rocking him. They sat there as the rain stopped and the sun came back out. Slowly, snufkin’s breathing relaxed, the trembling stopped.

Moomin appeared out of the tall grass (having ignored joxter and followed behind), hanging back at Joxter’s nod. It felt like ages, maybe it was moments, before snufkin steadied enough to push him away. He looked exhausted, but went straight to moomin, hugging him tightly. 

He should say something, have some big heart-to-heart. 

Instead he patted around his pockets for his pipe and a dry match. There’d be time for that later. 

 

They made a sad-looking trio, muddy and soggy as they trooped back to the cottage. The sun wasn’t drying anything out, just making the humidity worse. 

“Do you smell smoke?” Snukfin asked on the curve before you could see their home.

“Did someone start bonfires early?”

“I hear something.” the joxter added, tipping up his hat as if he could hear better if he could see more.

The clearing around their cottage had been turned into a party. Tables had been set out with food and drink, a band was playing and folk had already started dancing. A good sized bonfire had been started, sending smoke up into the sky.

“SURPRISE!” the crowd cheered.

Snufkin turned on his heel, stopped only my moomin’s grip on his wrist.

“No.”

“I can’t-” he looked at the crowd with panic.

“An hour. We have to make an appearance and thank everyone for coming.” he looked more determined (and like his mother,) than anything else. “We have to be Polite.”

“Now this is more my jam.” the joxter grinned, putting an arm around his son’s shoulder. “Let me do all the talking.”

The joxter found his son a few hours later by the stream, tinkering with a guitar. The party was still going on strong behind them. He settled next to his son, offering a cup. He took a sip and coughed.

“What is it?”

“Moominpappa’s liquor.” he nodded, gulping the rest and holding it out for a refill. joxter obliged. He had a bottle and already had a pretty good buzz. He was warm and lazy, putting an arm around snufkin. He froze, but managed not to jerk away 

“So what happened?” he could see his son’s pale face in the half-twilight.

“I don’t know.” he sipped his drink, hugging the guitar as if it would protect him. “I remembered falling in the river, I couldn’t think of anything else and-”

“And your hearing?”

“Oh.” he sighed, plucking a few strings. Joxter took it, adjusting the tuning for him. They were quiet for a moment. 

“Staying here will end up killing you.”

“I know. But I don’t want to leave anymore.” he sounded sad, resigned. 

“Me and you, we’re not made to stay in one place, to live in houses.” he ran through a set of scales, then started quietly strumming a tune. 

“Didn’t you ever... With mom?”

“I tried, I wanted to. But there wasn’t much of a place for me, then moomin found his wife- so I carried on.” The tune took on a sadder tone. (there were stories there, underneath the cheerful, lazy surface.) 

“I don’t want to leave moomin waiting for me anymore.” he rubbed his face, laying down in the damp grass. 

“Do you love him?”

Snufkin’s eyes grew wide, the first time the word had been brought up. Then he softened, smiling.

“Yeah. I think so.”

They watched the smoke from the bonfire curl into the twilight.

“I’ll stay too.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna stay with you two. Not in the house of course.”

“Fine then, do what you want.” but there was no bite to it. 

“Always do!”

“Snufkin! There you are!” moomin rolled in, grabbing and hugging onto him. There was a flush under his fur and his eyes bright from the alcohol. “Let’s dance!”

He smiled at his father, then at moomin and took his paw. “Sure.”

Joxter watched them run off, then settled back down with the bottle and guitar. 

_The river's long and the river's wide, I'll see you boys on the other side._ he sang to the moon and the smoke curling around it. _I'm water bound and I can't get home...._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one was so short! (it took forever to write... and re-write.) maybe too short... oh well. things happen. 
> 
> what will happen next?

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this thing for a week or so now. I hope you all like it as much as my other moomin fics! please let me know what you think!  
> warnings, I have been listening to alot of depressing folk music while writing this-


End file.
